


Scrying

by AutumnMooncakes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnMooncakes/pseuds/AutumnMooncakes
Summary: Loki investigates some magical mirrors and has a terrifying encounter.
Kudos: 2





	Scrying

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: creepy images, mild gore and violence
> 
> Notes: Pre-Thor and not part of my fanfiction series (for now)

_The ancient art of scrying is prevalent in many cultures across the cosmos. This technique is utilized to divine the past, the present, or possible futures. Scrying tools are not limited to mirrors. Any reflective surface can be used for scrying: metal, stones, water, fire. What the scryer sees may be personal to them, or it may have nothing to do with them at all._

“Are you hoping to see your future lover?”  
Loki looked up from his book. A grinning Thor was leaning over the desk, threatening to mess up Loki’s piles of carefully-taken notes.  
Loki was interested in a wide variety of topics, and his curiosity was not superficial. A topic could be subjected to intensive research for weeks, even months. The latest one to catch his eye had been mirrors.  
Mirrors were surrounded by numerous superstitions. They were said to show visions. Breaking them was considered bad luck. Some believed they could trap people’s souls, especially the souls of those who were dead. With magic being as diverse as it was, Loki held to the notion that not all such fears were irrational.  
And mirrors held a special meaning for Loki. Because of his ability to cast illusions, he knew better than anyone how images could fool people. He startled himself when he walked in front of a mirror while disguised.  
Thor had heard many of the same rumors, but he didn’t believe any of them. For him, mirrors were just tools for vanity.  
Loki was planning on visiting a place called the Vale of Mirrors. Stories about it varied and many sounded exaggerated, but they all agreed that the Vale held some very mysterious mirrors, possibly the most powerful in the universe.  
Loki wasn’t interested in scrying or seeing any deep truths. He just wanted to experience the mirrors for himself.  
Loki gave his brother a bored look. “I would not waste my time asking such empty-headed questions.”  
“You may find out that your sweetheart is a lizard,” Thor continued. “Or a troll.”  
Loki’s eyes dropped to a drawing on the table, depicting a man cowering from a storm of whirling leaves. His mother had warned him about delving too deep into powerful magic, but the temptation was just too great.  
“You should be careful in the Vale, brother,” said Thor, taking his hands off the table. “You might accidentally summon a Fire Demon that will gobble you up!” Chuckling to himself, he left Loki in the shadowy corner of the library.

The distant planet Loki landed on was largely uninhabited, so nature flourished freely. The planet’s three faraway suns gave off a comfortable light through the blue and gold trees. Furry animals with long snouts leapt through the branches, and worms twined around the trunks. Colorful rocks crunched beneath Loki’s boots.  
Strangely, many of the trees were broken near the tops, with the severed branches lying in a heap around them.  
Loki plucked some leaves off the ground. They were very soft, like velvet.  
Placing the leaves in his coat, he continued on through the forest, following a faint but undeniable tug of magic.  
At last, he reached the grove he had seen so many times in illustrations. The trees here looked as if they had been pruned. In the center of the grove was a perfectly circular pond with worms swimming in it.  
Wondering if the pond was one of the mirrors, Loki peered into the water. However, it was so clear he could see right to the bottom.  
Loki walked around the pond and found the ground sloping down into a pitch dark cave. He lit up his hand with yellow magic and went in.  
The tunnel led to a circular room with nine large mirrors on the walls, each a plain sheet of glass.  
Loki studied the mirrors. He could only see himself from several different angles. Nothing unusual.  
Loki then noticed that everything was still. The sounds of rustling leaves and animals had stopped. There was invisible magic in the cave, but it was static, unmoving.  
Maybe he had to focus. He drew closer to one of the mirrors. Still nothing changed.  
Just as Loki was wondering if he needed to use a spell, the eyes in his reflection darkened, and the face became longer and narrower.  
Loki stepped back and noticed that all the reflections were changing, growing broader or thinner, their hair morphing into other colors, until each one was a different person. All of them turned to face him.  
“Who are you?” Loki asked.  
“Why have you come here?” one of them asked back.  
“I am here to see the magic of the Vale.”  
“We can show you a great many things,” said another man.  
Each of them was standing in another cave, also full of mirrors. It was his own world, multiplied a myriad times.  
Maybe the mirrors were windows into other worlds, ones he could see but not touch.  
Or maybe _he_ was the reflection, and the others were reality.  
Loki summoned up his courage. “What do you have to tell me?”  
“Are you afraid of your future?” one of the reflections asked.  
Fate was not something Loki considered very often, because it unsettled him. The conviction of most Asgardians was that no matter what came to pass, they would face it courageously.  
Loki was not nearly that confident. Still, if that was what they offered, he would take it. “What do you know of my future?”  
The magic in Loki’s hand extinguished itself, but the mirrors remained lit with their own eerie light.  
“If you are not afraid …” said the reflection.  
“You should be,” all of them hissed.  
The cave and the mirrors disappeared. It was very dark, but Loki could see the faint outlines of trees. Leaves were falling around him – some silver, some a ghostly blue. The gleaming tips of creature’s snouts darted in and out of sight. Luminous worms as large as snakes swarm in a murky black pond in front of him. The whole place gave off the stench of wet leaves and dirty rainwater.  
Loki heard a crackling noise that grew progressively louder. Ice was creeping over the forest floor and up the trees. Pinpricks of red light appeared in the rocks, like a million eyes looking up at him.  
Terror gripped Loki. Every muscle in this body wanted to run. But just as that thought crossed his mind, a wind blew him onto his knees.  
All at once, the trees broke at the point where their trunks forked, as if a giant scythe had cleaved off their tops.  
Loki looked into the pond. The reflection looking back at him seemed melancholy.  
Then his reflection’s arm grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him into the dark water.  
Loki barely had time to gasp.  
But he wasn’t drowning. He didn’t even feel like he was underwater. The other him had vanished, and he was floating in empty blackness.  
_It isn’t real,_ he reminded himself.  
His toe hit something solid, and he fell onto hard ground.  
Loki’s head was on its side, and he could see that he was on a patch of rocks that smelled vaguely metallic. Beyond the rocks was a thick black fog. It was extremely quiet.  
Loki tried to push himself up, but he couldn’t move a muscle. Even his eyelids had been forced open.  
Something oozed up from between the rocks, flowing over Loki’s fingers and seeping through his clothing. The scent of blood filled Loki’s nose. He tried to get up again, but to no avail. His magic wouldn’t respond, either.  
The blood kept coming, and Loki wondered if it was his. He thought he could see ghoulish faces in the rocks, screaming silently. Maybe they were the ones bleeding.  
Just as Loki thought he would be trapped forever, the rocks turned to dust beneath him, and the liquid vaporized.  
Loki twitched his fingers and found to his relief that he could move again.  
He got to his feet shakily and wiped the blood off his face. The fog was gone, and he was on a barren plain. He stood there, legs apart and eyes alert.  
The wind picked up, and dust got into Loki’s eyes and clothes.  
Loki then thought he saw something hovering in the distance, unmoved by the wind. A spark of flame, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Was it a friend or an enemy?  
The bits of dust started to twist themselves into cable-like strands. One end was anchored to the ground, while the other end waved in the air. Instead of attacking Loki, they started converging on the tiny flame.  
The flame could be his only aid in this place He started running toward it.  
Immediately, some of the cables started moving towards Loki. Their ends became pointed, like spearheads.  
Loki pulled a dagger out of his coat and sliced through the cable closest to him. The cable exploded, its dust spraying over Loki. However, no sooner had it burst apart then it reassembled again.  
The cables slashed, making small cuts on Loki’s hands and face. One of them darted straight towards his chest, and he dodged it.  
If Loki had been facing a conventional opponent, he would have known how to fight. But these were very different entities. Stooping down, he put away his dagger and unleashed a blast of magic.  
The magic scattered the pieces of dust much better than his dagger could.  
Loki charged towards the flame. As he cupped his hands around it, it grew slightly larger, lighting up his face with its orange glow. It was pleasantly warm.  
Loki smiled a little, but he knew he had to be careful. Fire was fickle, and not easily controlled.  
Similar types of magic were attracted to each other, Loki remembered. He conjured a small flame of his own and held it steady.  
The cables were advancing on him.  
He strengthened his magic, and the flame grew along with it. He unleashed them both as one fiery blast. The cables were disintegrated instantly.  
Loki grinned proudly. He extinguished his own magic, but the small flame stayed.  
The ground quaked, making Loki almost lose his balance. The plain began turning into sinking pits of dust. Soon, only the patch of ground Loki stood on remained.  
Many voices whispered all around him, speaking as one. “Will you join us? Or will you be the one to escape?”  
Burning white objects, like stars, began showering from the sky. Loki had nowhere to run to, so he shielded his head.  
He hated this. He had fought hundreds of enemies before, but none of them could compare to the forces of nature.  
The flame spread out above him, incinerating the objects as they came near. But he could feel the flame weakening.  
_Fight nature with nature,_ he thought.  
Some of the objects grazed Loki’s arms, scorching him through his clothes. When they fell around Loki’s feet, Loki saw that they were leaves, sharp as glass and smoldering with white fire.  
Images danced in the flames. A blue crystal mounted in gold. An army mounted on winged horses. A rift in the sky that was full of stars. A long sword stained with blood.  
Just as suddenly as it had began, the bombardment of objects stopped.  
Loki took his hands away from his head, and the orange flame shrunk again.  
Rocks rushed out of the pits, and as he watched, the cave walls rebuilt themselves around him.  
There was a flash of lightning and a thunderclap that made Loki cover his ears. He was almost certain the cave roof had split open.  
Then it was absolutely silent.  
The flame was gone. The leaves were gone. Except for the nine mirrors, the cave was empty.  
After a few heartbeats, Loki hurried back through the tunnel into the open. The sunlight blinded him, and he fell to his knees.  
When his eyes refocused, he realized he was kneeling by the edge of the pond, which was clear again. The sun was warm on his back. He watched the rippling water and fluid movements of the worms, and gradually his heart stopped pounding.  
Loki gingerly reached up to touch his face. There was no blood, no dust. All his wounds had healed, but the sensations still remained.  
He had to laugh at himself. He, the illusion-caster, frightened by false images. Nearly all sense had departed from him in the cave. He had always prided himself on being the rational one in his family, but it seemed fear always triumphed over intelligence. He knew the best thing to do was to go home, talk to other people, and remind himself that reality still existed.  
He pictured Thor coming to him and asking, _So, did you see your future lover?_ and him answering, _Yes, and it turned out to be myself. Now please leave me and my books in peace._  
Loki saw that more of the trees were broken than before. Perhaps he had actually left the cave during his vision.  
The blissful scenery suddenly seemed to be overlaid with sinister images. Anything – from the ground to the plants to the sky itself – could turn against him at any moment.  
Loki backed away from the pond. Then he reached into his coat and took out the leaves he had picked up. They were still blue and gold, and as bright as ever.  
What had the Vale been trying to tell him?

**Author's Note:**

> If you want some music to go with this story, you can listen to ‘Mirrors’ by Aviators:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xeoie_dRVpw


End file.
